Happy Fathers Day -- My TACO Story
Back in 1989, I decided I had enough of secretarial work and I should go to law school.
I crammed for six weeks (weeks, not months) to take the last LSAT before I'd have to wait for a new academic year.
I'd work eight hours and go home and right into my bedroom to take practice tests. No prep courses, no help.
Three nights before the test, a young man who was the friend of my housemates took a chicken roasting knife, jiggled it in the door frame of my bedroom in the middle of the night. His silhouette showed him holding a knife like Norman Bates and he was wearing no pants. I was about to be raped and/or murdered in my own bed. (Yes, he was on drugs.)
Long story short, I got him out of my room. (The rape attempt is not a big part of my story.)
I took the LSAT and got a respectable 30 out of 35.
I was accepted at a local three-tier law school.
Here's the TACO part: I was qualified to get a scholarship for all three years. My father convinced me not to get the scholarship, that he would pay for the entire program. I was wary, but I accepted his offer.
Three weeks before orientation and the first payment of tuition, Dad ordered me to go to dinner with him. With our past history, this didn't sound good.
We're at the restaurant and he's bitching about the "fairy food". (He ordered the shrimp with the lime sauce on his own volition.) He then started at me. One of his administrative staff at his doctors office was about to quit, taking a registered nurse with her. And he blamed me. Not that I thought she was a respectable coworker, but I also didn't stand up for her. And because both of these women were threatening to quit (and I was solely responsible for this), he said he couldn't submit Medicare insurance forms and therefore, he'd have to prematurely retire imminently. And therefore . . . . . . no law school money for tuition. (And too late to apply for a scholarship.)
Forget the sappy sentimentality of the obvious betrayal of a father doing this to a daughter and him jumping to conclusions without evidence. I wasn't going to law school (at least until next year).
I was pissed and he was smirking at me across the table in a public place, to see me twist in the wind, maybe have some kind of hysterical reaction.
I responded by leaning back in my chair, took a sip of wine, put down the glass, and softly responded, "Well, I guess that's entirely up to you." He wasn't ready for that. Stole his thunder. He glowered and muttered, "Damned right."
We parted soon thereafter. I went home, threw down two shots of Jack Daniels, thought some.
I decided to say nothing and see what he'd do next. I knew that he'd have some defensive explaining to do when Mom found out. Silence for two weeks.
After two weeks, he called me to tell me the check was on his desk to be picked up.
Dad TACO-ed like Trump. If you fold first, you've lost. But if you're in the mood for an Olympic game of Chicken, you'll usually come out pretty well.
Epilogue: I graduated from law school. He gave me a hard time at graduation along with the rest of my family. But I have knowledge and experience that has helped me in good stead since then. I have confidence. I know how to negotiate. And nobody has the upper hand on me.
And no, my relationship with my father continued to deteriorate, but no damage done. I didn't tell the rest of my family about what he threatened to do, because honestly, it didn't matter after the last semester was paid for.
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